Certain
by Amilya Eclair Farron
Summary: You didn't have to ask me if I was certain about my mom and cousins being off their rocker for believing in legends and myths. Because I'm certain that they are. Or I was certain until that night on the boardwalk. From that point, I wasn't so certain about anything. And it was all because of him.
1. It's a Good Place to Start

I didn't think I'd write a story for this fandom any time soon (or at all), but my plot bunnies had different ideas. This is my second story that I've written in First Person point of view and… I don't know. I may end up going back and rewriting this chapter in Third Person before continuing… if I continue, that is… like I said, I don't know. I probably will.

The story begins three years prior to the movie. Well. Next chapter it does; this one's more of an introduction to the story really.

Full Summary: You didn't have to ask me if I was certain about my mom being off her rocker, along with my cousins', for believing in legends and myths. Because I'm certain that they are. Or I was certain until that night on the boardwalk. From that point, I wasn't so certain about anything. And it's all because of him. : Paul/OC :

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Lost Boys_ and its characters; the only things I own are my original characters. Any similarities of physical descriptions or names to any real person, may it be living or dead, is purely coincidental. Thank you.

* * *

Certain  
_It's a Good Place to Start_

* * *

I'm not going to lie: our mother was a complete freak.

Why? It's not because of the fact that she's overly religious, but she claims to have the whole "sixth sense" thing and whatnot. Why was she so superstitious? What made her believe in the supernatural? I hadn't the faintest idea and neither did my dad and older brother. Jasmine, three years younger than I and the baby in our family, came to the conclusion that mom was secretly smoking weed when no one was around. That's why she believed to have this "sixth sense"; the hallucinations made her think she could see spirits.

And, sadly yet not surprisingly, my brother and I agreed.

It was hard to imagine how dad ever fell for someone like our mom, but he did. And apparently, remained head-over-heels in love with her; although, he never openly said it. Not even in front of his three kids did he ever say those three words to her. But we could tell from how he put up with her odd behavior, even if it meant eating plenty of garlic, practically dying from the overly salted meals, and having our guests drink holy water before entering the house.

I still remember when Zack came home with his girlfriend one time and mom practically freaked when she hadn't drank holy water before coming inside. It was something Jasmine and I giggled over, as if we were both ten year-olds, while watching from the top of the stairs, but it wasn't until I turned eighteen that I realized the same may happen to me.

And, of course, it did.

But it was ten times worse since it was a few seconds after sundown. It wasn't like we were sneaking inside to "do the deed", as Jasmine so kindly put it. The guy just needed to use the restroom. What was I supposed to say? "Oh, you have to drink this glass of water before going inside. Sorry, it's the rule."? Yeeeaaah—_no_, I don't think so.

Thank God we were going away for the summer that year – even if the sole reason was because it was Aunt Lydia's birthday. Besides, it wasn't all that bad. I guess. The place had (and still does to this day) a boardwalk so it wasn't like there wouldn't be anything to do, right? Yeah. And there'd be plenty of rides to check out and concerts to see.

Really, it was perfect.

Well…

That is, with the exception of my awkward cousins being there. How did I know that they were awkward? Because Zack told me even he had a hard time trying to make casual conversation with them when he got to go with mom to pay them a visit once.

Oh.

And not to mention the fact that Santa Carla was given the title of "Murder Capital of the World".

But hey, I digress.

After all, it's not likely that anything bad would happen while we were there. Or, should I say, nothing bad would happen _to_ us. Who knows? No one ever did find the bodies so they could just be runaways, couldn't they? And aunt Lydia's been living there ever since she married Drew.

And, who knows? That could have been the truth.

But it's not.

Sure, it helped me understand my mother's weird quirks, which now, I don't consider weird as I once believed it was back then. And neither did Zack and Jazzy. Not after everything we went through that summer.

Not when I made the choice to hang out with _them_ that one night.

I blame the Twisted Sister look-a-like.

(_Wait a minute, who's blaming who?_)

(And who's the one telling the story here? So be quiet for a few more minutes, please.)

I won't say I regret my decision though because then I'd be lying. Because if I hadn't met any of them – _him_ – the way I did then who knows what could have happened? There are so many possibilities of what could have happened that it makes my head spin just thinking about it.

And it seems that I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, aren't I?

Yep, I am.

Guess that means I should start the beginning, huh? Yeah. Of course it does. It always does. No matter how boring it may be, you have to start _somewhere,_ now don't you? But where exactly should I start?

(_A name's always a good place to start with._)

Right, a name – that's a good place to start. Usually, that is. Not always, but usually it's a good place to start off with.

(_Don't I get a kiss for that, babe? Since, oh you know, I did tell you where you should start._)

(Didn't I ask you to be quiet? I'm trying to tell the story here.)

(_Jeez, someone's certainly moodier than usual_.)

_Any_way, what was I talking about before he interrupted me? … Oh, right. I was about to give you my name, wasn't I? Yeah. OK. I can do that. It's not like you're going to stalk me (_Yeah, cause that's my job—hey! C'mon, don't be that way! I'm just telling them the truth, babe!_) or anything, so it's perfectly fine if I give my name.

It's Charlene Fisher.

But you can just call me Charlie.

Now, the story I'm about to tell you took place a really, _really_ long time ago. Well, for me, it doesn't feel all that long ago where the whole world felt like it went topsy-turvy on me. I'm certain, once I tell you the date and if you've heard of the legends, you know why. And if you don't know about the legends then it's your lucky day because you're about to find out. But I do warn you to never mention it to anyone, least of all a certain male with platinum blond hair, styled in a mullet, with icy-blue eyes that'd freeze your soul in its place as soon as you look into them.

Unless, you know, you have a death wish or want to see about joining the gang. But you'd better think about it before you act, especially if you're considering on joining.

Just… do us a favor, please? If you do decide to approach him, make sure you don't frizz your hair and wear gypsy style clothing. And, for my sake, don't tell him you heard this from me – _any_ and _all_ of this. I'm already in enough trouble as it is.

(_Relax, babe; I'll protect you from the big, bad bat!_)

(Don't compare him to Batman.)

(_It got you to smile though!_)

So, you ready to hear when this fun old story of mine starts? … Yeah, of course you are. I can just see how thrilled you are at having to read this – my – story; although, in some cases, I could say _our_ story.

And when exactly does this story of mine – of _ours_ – begin?

I'll tell you.

It all began in the summer of 1984.

* * *

Thank you for taking the time to read this. And, if you feel like it, leave a review. I'd be more than happy to hear from you, especially if it's to improve something since, like I mentioned above, I'm not that great when it comes to writing in First Person POV. Or to point out a mistake that you see because, even though I went back through it a few times, I have a feeling I wrote Charlie in Third Person somewhere instead of First. But yeah, thanks again for reading. :)

Cheers.


	2. That's Real Subtle of You

Certain  
_That's Real Subtle of You_

* * *

"Charlene? Charlene? … Charlene?"

"Dad, she's not going to answer you."

"Yeah, remember? Mom's brainwashed her into believing her name's _Charlie_."

If only Jasmine was sitting in the passenger seat, instead of mom, then I would've been able to give her a good kick. Unfortunately, she thought ahead and sat in the very back of the van. "It's a better nickname than _Jazzy_."

"Stop denying, we all know _I_ have the better nickname." Zack said, clearly bored. Not that I could blame him. We'd been driving for what felt like days now. When, in reality, we'd only been on the road for about six hours or so.

I saw mom shake her head, but knew she wore that dreamy smile of hers from the playful exchange my siblings and I were having.

"Yeah, because we all know that _Zachariah_ isn't a normal name to have."

"It's _Zachary_. Not _Zachariah_, Jazzy. Just because you're blond doesn't mean you have to act like it." His lips twitched yet he managed to keep himself from smirking. Even if our parents didn't understand the real meaning behind his words that didn't mean we didn't. Jasmine hated the fact that, out of the three of us, she looked exactly like our mother in more ways than one.

The hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end, although I knew perfectly well that she was glaring at him and not me.

"Zachary." Dad's voice cut through the tension like a knife easily cutting through butter.

OK, scratch that. Only mom was oblivious to the meaning behind those words. How dad managed to know? Well, that was another question I didn't know the answer to.

A sigh came from Zack, "Sorry, Jazz."

My sister's response was an _hmph_ noise.

I was surprised that I hadn't inherited mom's messy, strawberry blond hair and warm blue eyes like Jasmine did but instead gotten dad's green eyes and brunette hair. Poor Zack, however, came out being the mix of the two yet it wasn't that bad considering. He only inherited mom's eyes and dad's hair, albeit a darker color that sometimes was mistaken for as being black like that of a raven.

"Charlie," Mom's voice caught all of our attention; beside her, dad didn't seem all that pleased at hearing my nickname. "Your father wanted to know about something."

Dad sighed. "Charlene, you did remember to ask your friend… what's her name?"

"Heather, dad, her name is _Heather_."

"Yes, her, you did remember—"

"Ha, I knew it! You totally have a crush on her!" Jasmine poked Zack in the shoulder.

"I do not have a crush on her."

"You do too."

"I do not, Jasmine."

"Pfft, you _so_ do. Doesn't he, Charlie?"

"You really think I'm going to side with you when _I'm_ the one sitting next to him? What, do you think I'm suicidal?" If we weren't stuck in the vehicle as we were then I would have openly agreed with her. But as it was that wasn't the case.

"Shut up."

Mom sent our brother a quick glance, "Zack, don't tell your sister to shut up. And Jazzy, please, don't tease your older brother."

"But it's fun." Zack glared at her. "Fine, fine; I'll stop."

"Charlene, you did remember to ask her if she could stop by the house to feed the cat, didn't you?" asked Dad for, what was possibly, the umpteenth time today.

"Yes, and before you ask, she said sure." I'm pretty positive that I told him this before we left the house. So why was he asking? It wasn't like his memory was bad. He was always good at remembering this and that and the other, even in the midst of chaos our dad always was able to recall everything. OK, maybe I was over exaggerating a little on that part.

"See, Henry? Everything's fine. There's nothing to worry about."

The three of us exchanged brief looks that said, "Yeah, except for your odd tics." We could tell that dad was thinking the same thing with the way he, shoulders slumping a fraction, sighed; however, it wasn't until we finally – _finally_ – arrived in Santa Carla and pulled up front of the house that I realized dad's reaction was for an entirely different reason.

"They're _hippies?_"

Wow, Jazzy. That's real subtle of you. Not.

Beside me, I heard Zack mutter under his breath. It sounded something like, "Smooth move", with a pinch of sarcasm to it.

"Mom, Zack – how come you guys didn't warn me about this?"

* * *

From what I could tell they weren't as bad as some of the hippies I came into contact with were.

Problem was, I couldn't tell if they were both high at the moment or not.

Uncle Drew might be, or was about to, since he kept offering dad some drugs and whatnot which he constantly declined. As for aunt Lydia, well, she and mom were chatting away and it was easy to see that she wasn't bothered with the fact that her sister and husband joined the hippie fashion lifestyle. But, wait. Didn't we have two cousins?

So… where were they?

"Ugh," Jasmine groaned, "can't we stay at an inn or something? The house smells horrible."

"It's not that bad."

"Are you kidding? I feel like my lungs are drowning."

"Compared to what Daniel's smells like? Trust me, Jazz; it's not as bad as it could be. And what's the point of staying at an inn? We're only going to be here for about three weeks or so."

"Yeah, well, you _still_ forgot to tell us that they're hippies."

"Wow. That was a really great comeback, Jazzy. Could I use that sometime?"

Her bright, blue eyes only narrowed at me due to my teasing tone. "It's not funny."

Zack rolled his eyes and poked me in the shoulder. "Dude, do something about your baby sister. She's totally bringing me down, man."

"Now, there's to be no negative emotions in this household." Aunt Lydia said as she, followed by mom, made their timely entrance. "This is a place of tranquility and peace. So do not start arguments with one another, but become one with peace." Uh-huh, sure it was. That's why dad was starting to lose his cool with his sister-in-law's husband. "Haven't Edgar and Alan told you that?"

I shook my head; Jasmine was the one to verbally speak. "Nope, in fact, we haven't seen either of them since we've got here."

It was mom who spoke, "Really? Because it looks like they're right there." She motioned towards the stairs and we looked to find that they _were_ standing there. Had… had they been spying on us? I could feel Jasmine's questioning glance on me and assumed she was mentally asking us the same question.

"Edgar, Alan." They both were unfazed as they stood there at the top of the stairs, but from their attire it was clear to see they weren't taking to their parents' lifestyle. In fact, one of them was wearing a red bandana around his head like the actor – Sylvester Stone – wore in the action thriller film that came out two years ago. "Come down and meet your cousins. Make them feel welcomed."

Instead of doing what their mother said, they scanned our profiles quickly as if we were the strange ones and not them. Once they were done they looked to each other before back at us. "It's almost time to open shop again," the one with lighter hair spoke in a gruff voice. They had a shop? What else did mom forget to tell us?

"Oh, right." It was strange hearing another airy kind of voice speak that wasn't mom. Then again, the two _were_ sisters. "Well, why don't you take Zachary and Charlene with you? Show them around the place? Make them feel welcomed around here."

Zack and I both blinked. What?

"That's a good idea. I'm sure Zack and Charlie won't mind. They've been talking about wanting to go to the boardwalk, anyway."

No, mom, that's not what we meant when we were talking about going down there. We wanted to go on the rides and have fun. Not work.

"I'm _so_ jealous." Jasmine's voice oozed with sarcasm. "I'm sure you four will have _loads_ of fun."

Our cousins looked just as thrilled as Zack and I did. "I doubt they want to." It was the other one that spoke this time. Unlike his brother, the outfit he wore wasn't so military-like.

"Yeah, do they even like comics?"

That's what their shop was? It was a comic book store? And here I was thinking it was related to hippie stuff. Zack's shoulders relaxed. He must've been thinking the same thing I had. "Yeah, comics are cool."

"It's settled then. Let me go get some money for you guys to buy food with." Mom, with Lydia in tow, disappeared back into the kitchen.

By the time mom returned, Edgar and Alan were downstairs with us – keeping their distance – with some twenties, along with a bottle of water for each of us. Crap. Don't tell me she "purified" them into being holy water. "Here you are. Now don't forget to have some fun."

Yeah. Sure, _fun_.

Like that was going to happen.

* * *

As soon as we opened the comic book shop the boys were already making their way towards… wherever. Zack and I merely glanced at one another, not sure what to make of their enthusiastic behavior seeing as how they weren't all that thrilled about this idea earlier today. Maybe they thought they'd get us to do all the work?

Business itself appeared to be slow as I stacked the comics in their place, or what I hoped was their place. I could be honest with myself and say I didn't have any idea which comic book went where. Some of the _Batman_ comics were mixed in with the _Action Comics_. Why did they have to run a comic book shop on the boardwalk? Couldn't they run something that didn't involve so much organization? Because, really, how was anyone supposed to find what they're looking for in here?

"Hey Charlie, we want you to have this."

I stopped with what I was doing – collecting the _Action Comics_ – to see what it was Edgar was holding out for me to take and I deadpanned when seeing the title.

Good Lord. What kind of crap did my dear mother fill their heads with the last time she was here?

"We know Aunt Jean knows a lot about this, but it doesn't hurt to have a manual in case you're unable to remember everything." Edgar said, still maintaining to keep his voice low and rough. I blinked. _This_ was what I was going to have to put up with? My eyes went to Alan's face, whose expression was somber, as he gave a nod of his head in silent agreement. Did Aunt Lydia or Uncle Drew know about their sons' weird obsession? "Go ahead, take it."

"And don't worry, it's on the house – you _are_ family, after all."

Oh yeah? It certainly didn't feel like it.

Zack, behind them, came from the back with another box in his hands. I knew then and there they must have given him the same – if not quite similar – comic book because his lips twisted in a knowing smirk while shaking his head. Oh joy. Jasmine was going to be thrilled when it came to be her turn.

"If I take the stupid thing will you two stop shoving this nonsense down my throat?" It was bad enough that I got this stuff from my mom, but now I was getting it from my younger cousins too? And it hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours since we've been here? Who was next – the surfer's girlfriend over there?

When Edgar and Alan nodded, after exchanging wary glances to one another, I quickly took the comic from the older boy and rolled it up before stuffing it (or trying to, at least) in my back pocket. They both didn't hide their disapproval, but thankfully didn't say anything else on the subject.

It was silent between us, with the exception of either Edgar and Alan or Zack and I exchanging words about this or that.

"See? I told you they were awkward, didn't I?" My older brother, without drawing the attention of the two, said. I gave a nod, asking him if we should warn our sister about their odd obsession they inherited from mom somehow. A look of thoughtfulness crossed his face before his shook his head. "Nah, they're probably just doing this to try and freak us out. They _do_ know about mom's weird habit, after all."

"I don't know. They seem to actually believe in it."

"We did too. When we were younger, remember?"

"Yeah, but that was when we were… what? Eight years-old? The same time we stopped believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, remember that? And how old is Edgar and Alan again? Aren't they almost sixteen and seventeen?"

Zack shook his head, "They're younger than Jazzy. Edgar's fourteen and Alan's thirteen."

"Whatever. They _still_ should have grown out of it by this point. And I don't remember mom going on and on about monsters."

My only response from him was a one shoulder shrug. "They're kids still. Let them have their fun and believe what they want." Yeah, because you know, it's not like they'll have anything to worry about when it comes to trying and pick up girls once they're older. "And besides, it's better than having to face the fact that there's some serial killer on the loose. Because, be honest here Charlie, what would you rather hear: a story about how vampires are lurking about or the murderer that's given this place its unwanted title?"

I didn't need to tell him my answer because he already knew what it was.

Our conversation died from there and I found myself trying to reorganize the shelves. I noticed from the corner of my eye how Edgar and Alan were quickly, and quietly, whispering amongst themselves in the back. Their expressions were completely serious and, once they did some kind of nod, saw Alan begin to approach me. I glued my eyes back to my work and said a quick prayer. Hopefully—

"Hey. Charlie."

—… never mind.

"Yes, Alan?"

"See those four over there?"

I glanced at him ("Not me – _them_." He hissed) and turned to see who it was I was supposed to be looking at. "You mean the group of surfers?"

"Not them. _Them_," It was obvious that he was growing impatient with me. "See the short guy with the bright patches? And the one that's the wannabe Twisted Sister look-a-like over there? And the—"

"OK, OK, I see them. What about them?"

"They, my dear cousin, are the four people you never want to cross paths with." I almost asked him if they were bullying him or something when, "They're what gave Santa Carla its name; they're the murderers and not just any regular murderers, but they're bloodsuckers – they're _vampires_."

"Not this again." I tore my eyes away – not realizing that the group of four teenagers – _male_ teenagers – had noticed my staring and were now watching us – to glare down at Alan. "What did my mother do exactly to make you guys believe in this stuff? Vampires don't exist. Werewolves don't exist. And whatever else is a supernatural creature certainly does not exist. Can you please, _please_ get that through your skull?"

Well, there goes the "would you rather hear its vampires instead of the harsh truth of reality" question.

He didn't appear all that fazed and I wasn't sure if that should surprise me or not. "Just do yourself a favor, Charlie. _Don't_ get involved with them. They're bad news."

I frowned before looking over to where Zack was with Edgar and being told the exact same thing due to how Zack kept glancing in the same direction I had been staring at previously.

Was it only a matter of time before I went off the deep end and became like my mother? I really hope not.

Zack and Edgar stood, now facing each other and in – what I assumed – was an intense conversation, before glancing over at Alan who was heading over to where his brother and mine were. A shiver ran up my spine as if someone was watching me. Had one of them noticed my staring? I swallowed.

By the time I mustered up the courage to chance a glance at the group of four boys, I found that they were already gone.

… So then how come I felt like there was a pair of eyes watching me still?

* * *

I'm going to go ahead and try sticking with First POV – if only in hopes of becoming better in writing said viewpoint. So hopefully, I was able to catch most (if not all) bits where I accidentally wrote Charlie in Third. But enough about that, let's move on to a different topic. I want to thank _Whisperer of Wintersilence_ and _CuteSango07_ for the reviews. :) And to you as well, dear reader, for taking the time to read this. :)

Not entirely sure when the next update will be, but I have written about one-fourth of the next chapter out already. But in the meantime, if you'd like, feel free to leave a review/constructive criticism.

Cheers.


	3. To Talk Some Sense

Certain  
_To Talk Some Sense_

* * *

"You're serious? They're almost like the mini-male versions of mom?"

I wasn't sure if Jasmine found the whole concept amusing or not. Last night, business at the shop was [very] slow and Zack asked Edgar if it was always like this. It wouldn't surprise me if it was, especially if Edgar and Alan kept trying to recruit people into believing the supernatural. But could I really blame them for it if mom was the one who roped them into thinking that way?

"How else would you explain that?" I pointed at the comic book – titled _Destroy All Vampires_ – I tossed on the kitchen table earlier this morning before wandering off to find the room that I was sharing with my sister during our stay here. "And you want to know what was worse?"

"What?"

"Alan decided to take it a step further and point out these four guys to me – only to tell me that they were vampires."

She choked on her own laughter, "W-What? You have to go be kidding me! He seriously said that?"

"Mmhmm; I think Edgar told Zack the same thing."

"Wow. That's really… special of them." I nodded. "So… were there any attractive guys down at the boardwalk?" Leave it to Jazzy to have boys on the brain; she hasn't gone through the embarrassment of mom harassing her date(s) yet. "And you better tell me the truth."

"You're fifteen, Jazz. You can't date until eighteen. It's one of the rules. Remember?"

"Hey, what happens in Santa Carla _stays_ in Santa Carla. Besides, it's summer and the boardwalk is meant to be a fun place. That and I need something to help forget about mom's strange beliefs that are also shared by our cousins, as you have just so kindly informed me. And what better way for me to do that than meet a couple of cute guys?"

"You are mistaking Santa Carla for Las Vegas."

"_Charlene_."

"_Jasmine_," I mimicked her whiny tone.

"You're no fun."

"You really want to go through the embarrassment now instead of waiting? I mean, you saw both Zack's _and_ my embarrassment. Don't you want to wait on dating until you're able to move out and get your own place?" I know that's what I should've done. And that's what I now planned to do – wait until I get my own place before I start dating again.

"Actually, you made the mistake of bringing him home."

"He was just dropping me off after our date."

"Whatever, it would've happened eventually. You know mom and her weird quirks." She grabbed a handful of leftover blueberries from this morning's breakfast. "My plan is to _not_ bring him home and _not_ to tell mom and dad about him. Probably won't until after the wedding."

I blinked. "You're not even going to invite them to your wedding?"

"I'd invite dad if I knew he wouldn't force me to have mom tag along. And don't tell me that it's heartless of me because you know, as well as I do, that mom would find ways to see if the guests are possessed or not." Unfortunately, what she said didn't seem all that far from the truth. Was that sad or was that… sad? "But we're getting off track here. Are there, or are there not, any cute guys down at the boardwalk? And tell the truth."

"I never knew we shared the same tastes when it came to guys." Her face turned sour from the fake surprise my tone gave off upon discovering this sudden, new revelation. But alas, this was my only entertainment for the time being. "Look, if you're really that desp—_err_, ah, _curious_, then why don't you volunteer to help at their shop? They could use it, especially since there are quite a few comics that are out of place."

She deadpanned, "Why would I do that? Only nerds go in comic books to shop. And I _don't_ want to be seen flirting with some nerd."

Correction: you don't want to be seen flirting _period_. Not until you reach the sweet, old age of eighteen.

"What's this I hear? My baby sister wants to flirt with a nerd?" A small dot of blue pelted him in the shoulder before falling to the floor and rolling a few inches away; Zack snickered and went to retrieve it – only to pop it in his mouth.

"Ew, Zack. Did you have to do that?"

"Don't be such a girl, Charlie."

Now it was my turn to deadpan. "One, you don't know how long it's been since aunt Lydia swept the kitchen floor. Two, I _am _a girl."

"Yeah, but you're a _tomboy_. Or… have you decided to change your ways, young Skywalker?" Have I mentioned that, when it came to "_Star Wars_", Zack was a complete geek? If I haven't yet, well, I have now. "Tell me not, you think of joining the dark side." … See what I mean? He even tries to talk like Yoda from time to time.

Jasmine decided to take this opportune moment to speak, something about how I wasn't that much of a tomboy. And it was true: I wasn't. But I wasn't exactly girly-girl because I dislike wearing dresses _and_ skirts. And pink. I don't like that color, especially the bright, neon pink. But I wasn't tomboyish enough due to my lack of tolerance for bugs and being moody if I've gone without a shower for more than twenty-four hours. It's almost like I'm stuck in between the two.

"But she's not much of a girly-girl as you are. Anyway, let's not make this all about our dear sister here. I came in here because mom wants to know if either of you have seen dad. She wants to discuss the surprise party with him."

"Don't look at me. I haven't seen him since breakfast."

"He may've gone into town?"

"That's what I suggested, but she thinks he's just hiding somewhere around here."

"From Uncle Drew, no doubt?"

"Who else could it be – the mailman?" Zack shook his head and this time ducked when Jasmine threw another blueberry at him. "Oh, before I forget. Charlie? Guess who mom volunteered to help at Uncle Drew and Aunt Lydia's shop again?"

"Only you, I hope."

"Nope, you get to help too."

Why did she have to do that? Did she know what she did to Edgar and Alan? Was she using them to try and recruit us into becoming mini-hers? I couldn't help except wonder. Mom was plain, downright weird and I didn't want to turn into her. She may not care that I wasn't into makeup and dresses and skirts, but couldn't she not care about me not caring about the supernatural?

"Why not have Jazzy here help out? She's dying to see what kinds of guys are down at the boardwalk."

"Wow, Charlie, thanks for throwing me under the bus." Jasmine stood from her seat and said something about repainting her nails. As soon as she left, Zack sent me a look.

"Actually, that's exactly why mom isn't volunteering her."

Now it was my turn to give him a look.

"I asked her, OK? That's how I know. You're not the only one who doesn't want to help out at that place."

I tried not to wince. "Yeah, I know. But she knows that we'd be there to keep an eye on her, right?" I knew it would be more work for us and all, but in the long run we'd get more done if we had an extra pair of hands to help. We'd be done real quick and then able to check out the rides and games and other shops that were around.

"It doesn't matter. She thinks that Jasmine will wander off and end up in the wrong crowd and in a bad situation. After all, Jasmine hasn't bothered to hide the fact that she's boy crazy."

Talk about hitting the nail on the head.

* * *

Time is always a funny thing.

There are moments where it feels like it speeds up when it knows you're having fun and there are cases where it goes by agonizingly slow because it knows you're being tortured. Sometimes, it speeds up just so it can get to that painful part. Almost as if it were having a good laugh from it all and how you wish time would go by faster in order to get this over and done with.

I know that's what I was doing and I'm certain that invisible forces are having a good, old laugh at my predicament.

Today felt like it moved way too fast and now that dusk had hit it felt tremendously slow. Like Zack told me, we were volunteered to help out at the comic book shop again and I was disappointed to learn that it'd be just like last night with only being there with Edgar and Alan. If Aunt Lydia and Uncle Drew weren't hippies, I think one of them would feel the need to come down and supervise us.

And I wish that one of them would if only to help keep Edgar and Alan's farfetched opinions under the hood.

Edgar seemed to take it on himself to try and convince us into believing them. We could only take so much before one of us snapped and – this time – it happened to be my brother. I wouldn't have minded _if_ he hadn't told Edgar to go with me to get some food. And it was easy to see that Edgar wasn't enthusiastic about the idea any more than I was.

Until, I think, Alan pointed out that he could try and "reason" with me some more.

I say "I think" because it's hard to hear what the two are always whispering to one another. But if pointing at me was any indication to go by then yeah, I think it was something along those lines.

Our adventure to the food court wasn't that bad, but it was packed with people. I wasn't sure which place had the best food, so I was grateful that one of my cousins was here to help me with that. We ended up getting pizza to go – with extra garlic and onions – and cokes for the drinks. I was also thankful that, despite the extras on the pizza, Edgar hadn't forced any of his nonsense on me.

… Yet it may be because of the constant screaming in the background and constant conversations going on around us.

Whatever his reason for staying silent is was fine by me.

Why is it, when you think everything is well, life proves you wrong and shows you that you spoke to soon?

"There they are – the vampires."

It took me a moment to realize that Edgar spoke, but somehow I managed to hear his quiet voice despite the noise surrounding us. My eyes darted about in hopes of trying to catch a glimpse of colorful patches or a look-a-like of Twisted Sister or a platinum blond or the other one with long, dark hair. Luckily, it didn't take me long to spot the group of four and, what was even better, they were heading in the opposite direction of us.

"Edgar, vampires aren't real."

"Then how come they're never around during the day?"

I don't know. How could I? It wasn't like I lived here.

"Uh, maybe it's because they have school or daytime jobs or maybe even a _life?_" Why was I even making excuses for those guys? It's not like I knew them or anything. Oh, right. It's because I'm trying to talk some sense into my cousin's head. "I'm not going to disagree with the fact that they do appear… a bit strange. But there are a lot of people on this boardwalk who look a lot stranger. Like… those surfers over there."

"They're part of the Surf Nazis gang."

… Surf Nazis?

There was a gang who called themselves the Surf_ Nazis?_

And Edgar didn't have a problem with that – with them?

_…_He does know about the Second World War, doesn't he? And does Alan know?

"And what's the difference between them and those four?" I motioned towards where we'd last seen the so-called "vampires".

"If you've lived here as long as Alan and I have, you'd know the difference. The Surf Nazis and the vampires don't get along. And you'll see new recruits come in when their fellow teammates go missing. Why? It's because the bloodsuckers pick them off."

"Are you sure your imagination isn't running away with you?"

"I'm serious, Charlie. If this keeps up the Surf Nazis will all disappear and the only ones left will be the vampires. And even though the Surf Nazis are real jerks, I would rather have them causing trouble than them."

I sighed. How was I going to convince him that vampires didn't exist? "Do you want me to go up and ask them what they do for a living—?"

"No! Are you insane? If you do that then you might as well wear a sign around your neck saying something like "Free Meal Here". Didn't Aunt Jean tell you anything when it came to vampires?" Does Aunt Lydia know how ridiculous you and your brother sound when talking about this kind of stuff? Did she know what her sister was teaching her kids?

Wait.

I forgot.

They were now living the hippie lifestyle so perhaps they didn't care what their boys got in to.

When the silence hung in the air for another five minutes, Edgar's frown deepened. "Listen, Charlie, we've seen all kinds of girls – some like you and others like Jasmine – go off with them into the night. And they _never_ come back."

"How do you know it's not just because it was their last stay?"

"Some of them _were_ locals here." He made sure to emphasis the word "were" so I could catch the past tense.

And… it wasn't reassuring.

But… what if they were just trying to yank my chain? Make me be the butt of their joke? Those locals could have moved away for all I knew.

I opened my mouth to reply when I saw Edgar tense. If it wasn't for the fact that his face began to drain of color I would have come to the conclusion that he knew I was about to call him out for trying to fill my head with utter nonsense. But instead, I felt my sister instincts take over as I started to ask, "What's the matter—?"

"Hey there, babe, how about you tell me your name."

* * *

Finally – we're getting to the good stuff. Or so I hope it'll be good stuff... I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter up and running because I've only just begun the process of writing it out. I'll try my best to have it typed up by the end of this week and then have it posted up during the middle of next week. (Key word: try)

Thank you _HoneyGee08_, _Whisperer of Wintersilence_, _CuteSango07_, and _Wolves in the Forest_ for the reviews! :) And thank you all again for taking the time to read this.

Cheers.


	4. He's Not an Admirer

Certain  
_He's Not an Admirer_

* * *

"_Hey there, babe, how about you tell me your name."_

It was then that I turned around to see who was standing behind me – the one Alan referred to as "the wannabe Twisted Sister look-a-like".

But… how could that be? We just saw him and his friends walking in the opposite direction of us.

And speaking of his friends, I noticed, the "wannabe Twisted Sister look-a-like" was alone. Maybe his friends left? Continued to go on without him to wherever they were heading to? Or… were they lurking around, in the shadow of the crowd, somewhere close by for front row seats of what was going to transpire between the three of us?

"Yes, actually, she does mind."

"Wasn't asking you, kid; I was asking the pretty lady here."

I couldn't muster up the courage to say that it didn't sound like a question. The atmosphere around us seemed to take a turn for the worse because you could practically taste the awkwardness and it made me uneasy. Maybe I could sneak away before either of the two noticed? Yeah. I like the sound of that plan.

"She's not interested in _you_."

"So her checking me out last night wasn't because she's interested in me?" said "Twisted Sister" as he grinned like a fool. Heat enveloped my cheeks as soon as he said that. So he (and possibly his group of friends) had noticed me staring at them last night.

This… this was just… _dandy_.

Ugh. I swear, if I could get away with it, I'd murder Alan as soon as we got back to the comic book shop.

Better yet, could I just crawl in a hole somewhere and hide?

"That's a laugh. Why would she want to check out someone as sad as you?"

"Sad?" He cracked a grin as if Edgar told him a bad joke. Maybe he had. "Nah, I'm the happy-go-lucky type of guy." This only earned him a deeper scowl from my cousin. "Anyway," His attention shifted back to me, the grin still plastered on his face. It was kind of surprising, actually. If Edgar was pushing this guy's buttons, he sure didn't let it show.

Too bad his "happy-go-lucky" attitude couldn't rub off on my cousin.

"What's your name?"

"Can't you take a hint? She doesn't want anything to do with you."

This time he laughed and (dare I say it?) it was a nice sound. "She hasn't even _said_ anything. And she doesn't seem like she doesn't want anything to do with me." He sent me a wink and more heat rushed to my cheeks.

"Don't say anything—"

"Charlie."

"—_Charlie!_" Edgar practically roared in a hiss. I looked at him. What? It's not like I told him my full name, did I? No. I didn't. So it wasn't that big of a deal. Was it? Oh yeah, of course it was. This guy was a vampire. What on earth was I thinking?

… Yeah, I felt like being a little sarcastic there.

"Charlie?" His eyes twinkled in amusement. "Huh." He seemed to be musing over this piece of information, as if trying to decide on something, before giving a nod. "Nice name for a nice looking girl."

Crap. Why were my cheeks starting to burn?

"Thanks."

Is it possible for a grin to grow any bigger than what it already was? His face was going to split if it grew any more.

"Paul."

"Huh?"

Apparently, he found this funny because he laughed – _again_. "Paul. That's my name."

This time I was thankful that Edgar was here with me. "She doesn't care. Charlie, we need to get back _now_. The comics aren't going to sell themselves, you know, and the pizza is getting cold."

Again, Paul found this amusing. "Well, it was very nice to meet you, _Charlie_. Maybe we'll bump into each other tomorrow and, I don't know, hang out." Although it sounded like an innocent question, it wasn't. Somehow, it came off more as a… promise, maybe? His tone didn't sound demanding.

"She doesn't want—"

"Yeah," I tried to seem indifferent about it. "Sure."

"Great. Guess this means I'll be seeing you later." He flashed a smile before turning back and disappearing into the crowd of people.

"Are you _crazy?_ How could you—? I can't believe—!"

"Oh wow."

Edgar ceased his babbling at my soft words. "What? Charlie? What is it? Wait. Did he use his vampire charm on you—?"

"I could have said something like "How do you know I wasn't checking one of your friends out?" when he said that. You know, about me checking him out last night because, you know, that's really not what I was doing. I wasn't checking him _or_ his friends out. Not in that way, I mean, because it was your brother who told me to look over at them."

Edgar gave me a strange look as if I lost it and, to be honest, I wanted to smack myself. Why did I always think of these comebacks _after_ the moment has passed?

… Right, it's because I'm shy when meeting someone new, especially if the person's a guy.

And they're under the impression that I find them attractive.

Was that why he came over? Because he wanted to see what my reactions would be? All because wanted to see if I really was checking him out the other night?

"He really did use his vampire charms on you."

"Oh, shut up, Edgar."

* * *

"She talked to the enemy!"

Both our brothers paused in their work due to Edgar's sudden exclamation. The kid barely stepped foot inside when he decided to announce of my "treachery".

"What?" Zack sounded evidently confused; Alan sounded shocked.

I started to tell Zack to forget it, that Edgar was just full of it, but unfortunately the kid beat me to it.

"She talked to one of _them!_ And worse: she gave him her name!"

Alan stared at me with disappointment.

"I only gave him my nickname. It's not like I went up to him and said, "Hi there, my name's Charlene Fisher. But you can just call me Charlie". No, I just gave him the name Charlie because he asked for a name and I gave him one." Alan still continued to give me his disappointed stare. "Can you please stop looking at me like that?" It seemed to finally register with my brother what was going on because he only shook his head at us—them.

I meant to say "them".

Because it wasn't like _I_ was the immature one here.

_I_ wasn't the one going around and accusing people of being vampires.

_I_ wasn't the one who was turning into a mini-version of mom.

"It's only our second night here and you already managed to catch some guy's interest?" Zack, with a toothy grin, shook his head in playful disbelief. "Better watch out, Charlie. He probably wants to suck your blood!" Ugh. Did he have to say that? This was only going to—

"That _is_ all he's interested in!"

—encourage them.

Zack, laughing, managed to choke on his own spit from Edgar's words. "If you two haven't already come to experience the reason behind why he's interested in her then you'll soon find out when you're older. Now, let me have some of that pizza; I'm absolutely starving here from an empty stomach and it doesn't help when Charlie's new admirer decides to take a few minutes to talk with her."

"He's not an admirer."

"He's only interested in drinking her blood."

"And he's not a vampire." I added with a defeated sigh. Why did I continue to try? They weren't going to change their opinions on the matter any time soon – perhaps not at all – so, really, why should I keep trying? Mom already got to them and installed her strangeness in them and that was that. The damage was done. As for the question on whether it was permanent or not, well, I'm certain it wasn't.

After all, we managed to shake off her influence. Why not hope they'd be the same?

Distantly, for I was still lost in my thoughts, I heard Zack's complaint about the pizza. "Extra garlic and onions – are you kidding me? Why would you ruin a perfectly good pizza like that?" He failed to get a response from either of us and, instead, begrudgingly, took a slice to eat. Not long after did I hear hacking sounds come from him and an announcement from said person that he was going to see about getting a hamburger.

Later I would come to realize I _could_ and _should have_ told him to take Edgar or Alan with him.

Wait. Speaking of the two…

They were back in their corner and whispering to one another. I was tempted to leave and see if I could catch up with my brother, but there was a part of me that was curious to know what it was the two were talking about. Why? Chances were high that the only thing being said was the encounter Edgar and I had with Paul.

… Yeah, I thought, I better go over and see what they're doing.

"—we can't let her become their next meal, even if she doesn't believe us."

"No d'uh."

"We need to come up with a plan – a _good_ plan."

"We need to tell Aunt Jean about this."

That made me snap.

"What? No! You are not to tell my mother any of this, do you understand me?" I knew if they went to her about their crazy, ridiculous, and stupid accusations about vampires roaming around would not end well, especially if they told her about one of the accused speaking to me. Mom would never let me down at the boardwalk ever again until it was proven that it was only Edgar and Alan's wild imaginations getting the best of them. And by that, she would not only embarrass herself to the people of the boardwalk, she'd embarrass the group of four along with her.

And then she'd get a reputation which would end up becoming our reputation here, too.

And I don't know why, but…

I kind of wanted to see him again, too.

Paul.

And if they went and told their aunt about this then I wouldn't get the chance to.

"But—!"

"Look." I wasn't sure where I was about to go with this, but I had to say something to change their minds. "How about this: _if_ I find anything out of place with them and, God forbid, end up under the delusion that he's a vampire, or any of his buddies are, I'll tell my mom about it. But in return, you can't breathe a word about this to her."

"That's it? You expect us to agree to _that?_" Edgar seemed insulted.

"Fine, how about you don't breathe a word about this to her _and_ I'll put up with your talk of vampires?"

"Forget it! We're not about to risk your life like that!"

"Do you two even have any proof of them being vampires – _besides_ your theory about the missing people and not seeing them during the day here? My mom will need a little more proof than that before she decides to, ah, join you two on your quest to vanquish them." I knew that statement was a lie, but it's not like they did. "And what better way than to let me do this, should I ever speak to him again?"

This time it was Alan who spoke and the look his brother sent him gave me the impression that I wasn't the only one to commit "treachery" this night.

"We may consider, should you promise to keep a cross and a bottle of holy water with you at all times."

That's all? I stared at Alan and he stared back at me.

"Yeah, sure, I'll keep those two things with me at all times."

"And you have to tell us what happens should you encounter with them in the future." He added, holding his hand out for me to shake; I clasped my hand in his.

We shook—

Edgar gave a disapproving huff.

—and that was it.

The deal was sealed.

* * *

True to their words, or more like Alan's word since Edgar refused to speak with me for the rest of the night, they kept their mouths shut and didn't let anything slip to my mom the following day.

Zack didn't either; although, I knew I didn't have to worry about him telling our mom about the encounter. What I did worry about concerning him was that he may let it slip to Jazzy about my encounter with one of the accused yet he made sure not to bring it up. I think we both knew what would happen should she learn about it.

Aunt Lydia was blissfully unaware of the surprise party that her sister was preparing for her and I think Uncle Drew may have helped with that. Whatever it was they were smoking made them way too lax for their own well being. He still tried to get his wife's brother-in-law to try some but never could persuade him. It didn't take long before he tried to see if Zack wanted to try some.

I hid my laughter behind the book I was currently reading when the two came bustling in from being out on the back porch.

"Come on, Zachary; don't be like your old man. Just take a whiff."

"No thanks, Uncle Drew."

"Dude, you know about our house rule, don't you? There shall be no negativity in this place of haven."

"But you're the one who keeps insisting on the matter that is causing me to feel negative. Besides, last time I tried that stuff I ended up feeling sick."

"… You sure you don't want to try any?"

I took that as my cue to leave the room before Uncle Drew came up with the thought of persuading me into trying some of the "magic".

Not soon after did Jasmine come rushing down the stairs in hopes she could find Aunt Lydia. Apparently, Edgar and Alan approached her and – finally – gave her a comic book about vampires and warning her of the dangers lurking about in Santa Carla. Their disappointment in my sister's reaction was evident in their faces and something told me that they were hoping her reaction would be different from mine and Zack's.

That she would believe them as soon as they told her; I'm surprised they hadn't come to her sooner about the subject.

Maybe, they thought, despite Jazzy being the youngest of the three, she was an exact replica of our mom.

Yeah, I thought, our cousins must be really disappointed in us.

The hour came when we – Edgar, Alan, Zack, and I – were to go down to the boardwalk and open shop. Mom gave us a few bucks and four bottles of water which she purified to be holy. Nothing was out of place of our usual routine and it stayed that way even after the shop was opened. Only a few stranglers and nerds would venture in to browse through the comics and even fewer would end up purchasing something for the night.

Edgar, as the sky grew darker, seemed a bit on edge. A few times I caught him scanning the passing pedestrians. I knew it was better not to ask what he was doing, especially since I had a feeling I already knew what his answer would be.

"I _still_ think we should have told Aunt Jean."

I was on my way towards the back when Edgar not-so-quietly whispered to his brother.

If Alan was having second doubts about this than he made sure not to show it and kept his voice in check. "You heard what Charlie said: we need some type of proof if we want her help. And it's got to be something solid."

"So what, we're going to put her on a silver platter and tell them to feel free about feeding off her?"

This caused both to turn to face me; I stared back.

"You know, speaking of feeding, why don't you two go down to the food court and get something for us to eat?" Zack, casually leaning on the counter, asked. "And this time, make sure what you bring back is eatable."

"What we got _was_ edible."

"No, what you got was some kind of an abomination. And I'll let you in on a little secret: if I want to eat an abomination with extra onions and garlic and salt and whatever else, I'll just eat my mom's cooking, thanks."

"Oh, well, pardon me for trying to keep us all safe."

"Keep that up and you're going to get booted out."

"This is _our_ shop."

"But _I'm_ the oldest so technically I'm in charge of the place."

"No you're not."

"Oh, but I am."

"No, you're not."

"Edgar, why don't you and Alan—"

"Charlie and I'll be going now." I blinked at my younger cousin. Did I hear him right? Because it just sounded like he said that it'd be him and I that were going. Not him and his brother. "Let's go, Charlie."

I tried not to seem too disappointed with this. As far as I could tell, Alan was quieter than Edgar and who knows? If we ended up running into Paul and–slash–or his friends than perhaps he'd be civil towards them unlike his brother. But the more I thought about it the more I wondered if the two ever made accusations to the groups' faces.

Had they?

"No."

Oh.

"Sorry, I didn't know I was voicing my thoughts."

He gave me a stern expression – something that made me take him more seriously than when his brother made that face – as if what I'd done was wrong. Turns out, I wasn't far from hitting the nail on the head of that one. "You shouldn't, especially when it's about _that_." Yeah, I know, because I don't want to end up embarrassing myself like that.

Huh. Maybe Alan wasn't that far off the edge as I previously assumed. Maybe there was a chance of reversing mom's influence on him before it really was too late.

"What?"

"Oh, it's nothing!"

Understandably, he didn't seem to buy it.

"And what do you know. The one interested in you as being his next victim–slash–meal is heading our way."

"What—?"

"Hey!" I halfway turned to find Paul walking towards us; although, the way he carried himself was more of a swagger. Almost as if… well, almost as if he owned the place. "Charlie, I was hoping I'd see you here tonight, though, I was hoping you wouldn't be stuck babysitting like before."

"I'm not…" I grumbled and turned to see what Alan's reaction would be to the statement. To my surprise, his eyes were glued elsewhere – almost as if it were far more interesting to stare at than watching–slash–listening to us.

"You're not…?"

Why had I been looking forward to seeing him again? Especially, when I knew I was going to be shy?

"Babysitting; I'm not babysitting…"

"So if you're not babysitting then how come you're hanging out with them?" His blue eyes, glistening with amusement, kept themselves trained on me. "Them"? I couldn't help but wonder if Alan and Edgar really did get themselves a reputation thanks to my mom's _oh so wonderful_ influence. But, I reminded myself, they could have gotten it because of their parents' shop.

And, from the way Paul – and his friends (speaking of, where are they?) – dressed, they didn't come across as "comic book fanatics".

In fact, the more I gave it some thought, the more it seemed they came off as the kind of guys that prey on nerds and giving them a good wailing.

... Wait. Was that why Edgar and Alan had such a strong dislike for Paul and his friends?

"They're my cousins." I felt Alan's body stiffen beside me; Paul's face lit up with surprise.

"You're their cousin? Oh, no wonder you were…" I tried not to shift in discomfort. No wonder I was… what, in their shop? Or being forced to hang out with one of the two or both of them? … What? No wonder I was _what?_ Paul shook his head, amusement once again entering his eyes. "Well, then, if you're not babysitting them, why don't you come hang out with me and my buddies?"

"Uh… why don't you see if they'll want me to hang out with you guys first?"

"Trust me, babe, they won't mind a bit."

"Er, I don't know—"

"It'll be lots of fun."

"Well, uh, maybe tomorrow…?"

"You promise?" He smirked.

"Um… yeah, sure; I promise."

"Alright," Paul didn't try to hide how pleased he was. "I'll meet you here – same spot, same time."

"OK." I tried to seem indifferent about it, but I think he saw right through it. He grinned, gave the OK sign with his right hand, and left, leaving the two of us alone.

"It is official: he definitely is interested in you being his meal sometime in the not-so-far future."

I merely sighed.

Just what exactly was I getting myself in to?

* * *

Phew. That took a little longer to write–slash–type out than I expected it to be. But it's finally finished. I had a hard time at the end there but was able to overcome it; although, I still don't feel that pleased about certain parts. Anyway, I'm not sure when the next update will be because from here on out my schedule is busy and it's not the "this is going to be so much fun" kind of busy but the "this ultimately really sucks" kind. Ugh. But enough about that. Let's move on. :)

Thank you _Whisperer of Wintersilence_, _HoneyGee08_, and _CuteSango07_ for the reviews! :) And thank you all again for taking the time to read this.

Cheers.


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